


Forget-Me-Not

by esotericfallacy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Drama, M/M, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Revenge, Sexual Content, Sexual Violence, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esotericfallacy/pseuds/esotericfallacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never forgive. Never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Not

**Author's Note:**

> Very short one shot that is complete as is; however, I've had multiple people ask me to continue it, so I'm planning on writing a fic inspired by it, as well as a prequel that will show how they got to this point. I think the stories might be a little depressing, but people keep asking, so I'll give it a shot! I have a pretty solid idea at this point, it's just a matter of finding time to work on it. I have way too many fics going right now, haha.
> 
> Anyway, please note, once again, that this piece is very violent and disturbing.

***

He writhes beneath the weight, rope biting tender wrists. Every touch burns, every caress like fire on his bare skin. He cries out to emptiness, the tears soaking through the cloth covering his eyes.

"Let me go," he begs, the same plea he's tried for hours, but the fingers don't stop, still squeezing his hips, leaving bruises in their wake. He arches off the mattress, twisting to escape the pain. But his attacker is unrelenting, gripping tighter, shoving thin, battered legs apart for the third time that evening.

"Please," he whispers, but the man silences him with the taste of metal, cool against his swollen lips. It's the same metal that held him still as the man overpowered him for the first time. He cringes as the barrel of the gun caresses his jaw. His legs are much easier to spread now, just as it's much easier to drive into that torn passage, slick with blood and come.

 

The man fucks him hard, fueled by a heated rage. Lust, hatred, fear, betrayal, greed. His fury bleeds out with every thrust. When that isn't enough, his fists say the rest, painting delicate skin with bruises and blood, a schizophrenic masterpiece at his fingertips.

He wants to kill the boy. He wants to crush that slender throat until not another breath escapes, to steal this life away, to take what's owed to him. But wouldn't that defeat the purpose? He does this for one reason alone: to send a message. Every scream, every cut, every tear is for _him_. So he'll know. So he'll finally understand how it feels.

The mattress creaks and he comes to that thought, filling the exhausted body yet again before pulling out and letting the remains dribble over stained sheets.

Another round, maybe. After he's caught his breath.

But the front door opens.

 

"Tyler, I'm home!" a familiar voice calls, and he jerks away from the battered figure on the bed now like it's poison.

"Fuck," he whispers, pulling on his pants as quickly and silently as possible. The traitor is back. That heartless, soul sucking monster has returned, home earlier than he should have been. Earlier than was hoped.

No, no. It wouldn't be wise to be caught with the offspring of his backstabbing ex-lover. How can he dole out these punishments from behind the bars of a prison cell? He grabs his things and steps back, pleased at the frightened silence coming from the mattress. Without a word or a second glance, he slips out the window into the night, leaving the carnage in his wake with the silent promise of a prompt return.

*** 


End file.
